


Yesterday's Shadows

by Jadzibelle



Category: Haven - Fandom
Genre: Drinking, Gen, Mentions of canon minor character death, Mentions of canon-typical tragedy, Possibly implied past relationship (Duke & Nathan), Pre series, Pre-Relationship (Duke & Nathan), Season 1, grief & grieving, implied child abuse/neglect, memory loss/repressed memories, mentions of canon-typical violence, stays within the realm of believably canon (i hope)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-24 00:46:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8349631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jadzibelle/pseuds/Jadzibelle
Summary: In 1983, Lucy Ripley arrived in Haven, and disappeared again.  In 2010, Audrey Parker appears, and has questions.Nathan and Duke might have answers, but they aren't entirely sure- and in sorting through what might have happened in the past, they can't help but shift the present.





	1. Prologue: Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dvioletta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dvioletta/gifts).



_Haven, Maine - Memorial Day Weekend, May, 1983_

Lucy’s hand on his shoulder was the only thing keeping Garland steady. She was silent beside him, eyes dark with sympathetic worry, slim frame pressed close- more concerned, in the moment, with keeping him calm than with what they were about to deal with, and he knew it. He _resented_ it, even if he knew she was probably right; whatever had happened, had _happened_ , but the amount of damage he could do if he slipped was yet unknown. It didn’t make it any easier to make the godawful trembling in his gut _stay there_ , didn’t make it any easier to swallow the fear and grief- already real, no matter _what_ he saw- and the circling question of how, how he was going to tell Elizabeth, _God-_

“Stop. Garland, listen to me, you need to breathe. You _need_ to keep calm, I need you on this. We don’t know anything for sure yet,” Lucy said, squeezing his shoulder, fingers biting in like she could hold him still if she just held tight enough.

“Easy ‘nough to _say_ ,” he snapped, which wasn’t fair, he knew it wasn’t. She raised a brow, and Garland ducked his head, gave a reluctant, chagrined nod, and tried to focus on his breathing. He didn’t have much truck with that sort of hippie crap, but Lucy was hard to argue with, and he had to admit that it was easier to keep the shaking contained when his breathing was steady.

“Good, that’s it, just hold it together, Gar, you’ve got this.”

“Right.” He could handle this, he could do his job.

He had to. No matter what.

He drew himself up, and Lucy relaxed her grip on his shoulder, but didn’t let her hand drop away entirely, a steadying, supportive touch. And maybe an anchor of her own; it was always worst when it was kids.

The last of the buses pulled to a stop, and the emergency crews were already swarming, every man they could get from the fire station with any kind of useful training at all mixed in with the paramedics, and Garland spotted a few of the town’s doctors in the mix as well- his eyes met Eleanor’s for a brief instant, and he could see the same awful fear he felt, and a determination he was struggling to hold on to. And in the middle of it all, cars were pulling in, people- _parents_ \- summoned by who-knew-what, because for a town that held secrecy as a watchword, it was still damn impossible to keep anything quiet longer than ten minutes.

Ignoring the urgent, _unhelpful_ need, he cut to the right, away from the lead bus and toward one of the police cars, catching Officer Bates by the arm.

“Get some damn barricades out, close off the lot, last thing the medics need is a bunch of panicked idiots driving through here!” he snapped. “Tell our people to start corralling the folks who’re already here- we need crowd control, won’t be long ‘fore the rest show up, and more besides. People ask, we _don’t know_ what happened yet, we’re workin’ on figurin’ it out, best way they can help is to _stay out of the way_.”

“Yes, sir,” Bates said, and Garland let him go, turned back toward the mess of people and vehicles and flashing lights. Lucy nudged him toward the forward bus, and Garland let her, told himself it was practical and not personal. He might even have been right, but the heartsick urgency still hammering at his ribs, trembling through his bones, said it was more likely a necessary lie.

He spotted Linda Holloway, and started across the lot, counting on sheer bullish focus to keep anyone from getting in his way; Lucy stayed close, following in the path he cut, and he was fairly sure a few other parents tried to get his attention, but he had none to spare for them. Linda looked like a wraith, ashy white and trembling, eyes red and too wide- the sunny, cheerful jacket she wore looked garish and out of place in the repetitive wash of red light. Her hands were locked around a clipboard, but she wasn’t actually marking anything off as children stumbled out of the bus one by one. It was Rhonda Meyers, who taught classroom ten, who was actually gathering the children up, trying her best to get them into their lines- trying, and mostly failing, as the moment she got one group lined up and turned to another, they clustered right back up into tight, frightened bunches that seemed more defined by social group than classroom assignment.

“Linda,” Garland barked, trying to get her attention; she startled, turned those terrible wide eyes on him, and he’d have felt more sympathy if he weren’t having to work to keep his focus on her long enough to hand her off to Lucy.

“Garland,” Linda said, voice cracking, and he was _not_ going to take anything from the despair in her tone, she was a wreck and it had nothing at all to do with him. And he had to believe that, because if he didn’t, he was going to shake apart under the swelling fear that he _couldn’t see Nathan_ , that he wasn’t in any of the anxious clusters within easy spotting. “Garland, I don’t- they just-”

“Slow down,” Garland said, trying to gentle his tone, and failing. “Linda, this is Lucy Ripley, she’s- helping. Lucy, this is Linda Holloway, teaches classroom nine. Linda, I need you to _stay calm_ , and tell us what we’re lookin’ at.”

“They just- they just fell down,” Linda said, reaching out and grabbing his wrist, clutching at him. “We were telling stories, and then they just- they just _fell_.”

“Okay, Linda, okay,” Lucy said, voice gentle, and she reached out, prying Linda’s hands off of Garland’s arm and holding them carefully, providing a much better anchor than Garland could. “That must have been horrible, and I’m sorry to have to ask, but we need to know more than that. Can you tell me how many people were affected?”

“Twelve-” Linda started, but she was cut off by a sharp shout.

_“Dad!”_

Garland felt, for an instant, like all his bones had turned to water, the relief utterly and painfully overwhelming, and he’d barely managed to turn before Nathan had slammed into his legs, fingers digging into Garland’s clothes as he practically climbed Garland’s side.

“Easy, Nathan, easy,” Garland said, voice choked and shaking, hands going to Nathan’s shoulders, gripping too tightly- not that Nathan would notice, damn Max and his Trouble straight to hell- and pulling Nathan back just a bit, just enough to get a proper look at him. “You’re alright, you’re safe, I got you,” he added, and he wasn’t sure which of them he meant to reassure.

“Dad, I want to go _home_ ,” Nathan said, putting on his most piteous expression- wide blue eyes just like his mother’s brimming with tears, lip pouting out and chin trembling- and it was an act of will not to fold, not to ask Lucy if she could just handle all this without him.

“Soon, son, real soon, but I need you to wait just a little bit. Can you do that for me? Got a job to do here, ‘fore I can take you home,” Garland said, and for a moment, Garland wasn’t sure he _could_ , thought from the fine tremors he could feel running under his hands- not his own, not the dangerous threat of his Trouble, just a scared little boy reaching the end of his rope- that Nathan might actually raise a fuss. He looked like he was thinking about it, pout deepening, before he hunched in on himself and nodded.

“Okay,” he agreed, ducking back in against Garland’s side, and Garland let him, curved a hand around the back of his head and let him hide, an awful mix of pride and regret welling in his throat. “Okay. Doin’ real good, son.”

“Gar, do you want-” Lucy started, and Garland shook his head, turned his attention back to her, back to Linda.

“No, he’ll be fine. He’s good. Elizabeth isn’t awake, anyhow, don’t need to disturb her yet.”

“Alright. If you’re sure,” Lucy said, her voice careful and even. “Linda, you said twelve. Can you talk me through how it happened? What was happening before it started?”

“We. We were telling stories-”

“Was everyone all together? Or were you in groups?” Lucy asked, and Linda paused, looking unsure before she shook her head.

“We were in groups. Each- each class, we had our own fires. My class was, was on one edge, Rhonda’s was in the middle next to us, Tammy had room seven next, and George had room eight on the, the other side,” Linda said. “We were- we’d finished dinner, and everyone had gotten their treats, and we were starting to wind down.”

“And you were telling stories?” Lucy prompted, squeezing Linda’s hands gently. “What story?”

“The Widow in the Painting,” Linda said, and Lucy’s brow furrowed, but Garland hissed out a breath.

“ _Linda_ ,” he said, chastisement and disappointment thick in his tone, “What’s in your head, you thought-”

“ _Detective Wuornos_ ,” Lucy said, cutting him off and fixing him with a hard look, and she didn’t raise her voice, kept it steady and calm and knife-sharp. “That isn’t helpful right now,” she continued, and Garland bit the inside of his cheek and tightened his hold on Nathan’s shoulder, keeping him close. Lucy waited a moment, making sure he’d gotten the point, and looked back at Linda. “I don’t know what that is, can you tell me?”

“It’s. It’s just a- a local legend, a ghost story. About a haunted painting,” Linda explained, and Lucy frowned, brow furrowing.

“It’s scary?”

“Not- not really, it’s just- it’s a campfire story. Most of the kids already know it,” Linda said.

“Okay. So you were telling this story, and then what happened? Your class was around the fire, and...?”

“I was almost to the end, and- and Bonny, my, my class aide, she just, she started to shake, and then she collapsed. And that’s when I saw that Matty had fallen over, and- and then they were just. Falling, all of them, one after another, that whole side of the circle,” Linda said, anguished. “Bonny, and Mr. Tanner, and the children, and- and I made everyone get up, they were, were starting to move anyway, some of them noticed, but Jenny-”

“Jenny?” Lucy asked, and Linda paused, blinked, and her mouth curved down, her eyes going dark and angry.

“Jenny Mears,” she said, and Garland had heard that tone before, knew it well. His stomach sank, and he shifted his hold on Nathan, tilting his head so that he could block one of his ears with his hand, and keep the other pressed against his side, trying to keep him from listening. Nathan squirmed, trying to hide his eyes, but Garland shushed him, because there was nothing to see now, but he didn’t need to hear what came next. “She, she did this, she- she was right in the middle of it. Sitting next to Bonny and Matty. It was her Curse, she-”

“That’s enough,” Garland growled, and this time Lucy didn’t bother to stop him. “Don’t need that kind of talk, if the poor girl was Troubled, weren’t her fault-”

“ _Is_ ,” Linda snapped. “ _Is_ Cursed, Garland, she got up, everyone close to her fell and she got up and _ran_.”

“ _What_?” Garland demanded, eyes going wide. “She _ran_? Where is she now?”

“I don’t _know_ ,” Linda said. “George and Peter and some of the parents, they stayed behind, to look for her, but we needed- we needed to get everyone back, as quickly- we didn’t know if it would keep spreading. We didn’t know-”

“Thank you, Ms. Holloway, you’ve been very helpful. If you’ll excuse us,” Lucy said, all of the gentleness gone from her voice, and she caught Garland by the elbow, guiding him away. Garland shifted his hold on Nathan again, tugging him along in his wake, and Nathan scurried to keep up, looking back at his teacher with worried, wounded eyes before he huddled in as close as he could get the moment they stopped again.

Garland concentrated on Lucy’s hand on his arm, on her steady, grounded presence; he could see the anger in her eyes, but she had it under control, had herself drawn up like she could stare down the world if she had to. It helped, just a little, to keep his own temper in check.

No matter how dearly he’d like to shake Linda Holloway until she understood that _nothing_ was ever that simple.

“Okay, this, this is not good,” Lucy said, after a moment, leaning in close. “We need to get out there, Garland, if that poor little girl _is_ somehow able to cause this, then she might accidentally hurt the people trying to find her. We need-”

“Doesn’t matter, Lucy,” Garland said, frustration in his voice. “Even if she can, even if we did, two of us can’t even cover the whole campground, let alone the woods. Need real search parties, a lot of ‘em, and that’ll take time to organize. I’ll call the station, get it started, and we just- have to tell ‘em to be careful, and hope for the best.”

“It’s not a good idea-” Lucy started, and Garland reached out, caught her wrist.

“I know that, but I’m tellin’ you, there’s no choice here, we _can’t_ , not just the two of us. There’s _hundreds_ of square miles of woods up there, and we _can’t_.”

“...Damnit,” Lucy said. “Damnit, that-” She shoved her hand through her hair, pushing it away from her face, frustrated and angry and helpless, and Lucy didn’t do _helpless_ well. “You’re right, I know, I know. Okay, damage control. Food poisoning? Botulism? Did they have canned food?”

“It’ll work,” Garland said shortly. “Won’t be too many folks lookin’ to dwell on this-”

“ _Gar_ ,” Lucy hissed, shoulders going tight and posture drawing up, her attention fixed over his left shoulder, and Garland swallowed the rest of his words and turned to follow her line of sight. Garland felt his own shoulders tense up, dislike and frustration and _unease_ curling up through his gut; he shifted, pushing Nathan to stand behind him, and braced himself for the sort of argument he shouldn’t be having in public. Lucy shifted to match his stance, crossing her arms over her chest and planting her feet, chin lifted in challenge.

“Who was it,” Simon demanded, entering their space like a storm moving in, eyes sharp and hands fisted at his sides.

“Accident,” Garland replied, the word flat. “Food poisoning.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Garland. You know as well as I do that this wasn’t an _accident_ ,” Simon snapped.

“It was _exactly_ that,” Lucy said, steel in her voice.

“Not the time for this, Simon,” Garland said, indicating the chaos beyond with a sharp jut of his chin. “Have a little respect.”

“ _Not the time?_ ” Simon asked, the words sharp and disbelieving. “Think you’d still be saying this _wasn’t the time_ if your boy wasn’t standing right there?”

It was a cheap shot, but an effective one; Garland moved without thinking, reached down to curl his hand protectively around Nathan once more. Lucy made a soft sound of distress, eyes dropping, _searching_ , and Garland felt the first tickle of real alarm at Simon’s presence. Garland didn’t _know_ who hadn’t come back, and Simon might be a son-of-a-bitch, but he was still a _father_.

If he were half as afraid as Garland had been, well.

Worse, if his kid _hadn’t_ come back-

Garland didn’t want to think about the consequences.

“Simon,” Lucy said, voice low and urgent, “where’s Duke?”

Simon jerked his head in the direction of the sidewalk, eyes cold.

“Waiting.”

“Then why’re you over here lookin’ for a fight don’t need havin’?” Garland snapped, relieved and annoyed. “Take your kid home, and _stay there_. Got work needs doin’, and _you aren’t helping_.”

“You can’t keep _covering things up_ ,” Simon said, sharp. “You can’t keep pretending you’ve got the situation in hand. You don’t, neither of you.”

“Go _home_ , Simon,” Garland repeated, tone flat and tired. For a moment, Simon held his ground, looked like he meant to keep pushing- but there was a burst of new sound from the crowd, a high, awful shriek, loss and disbelief and everything neither one of them had to face this time, and his expression shifted to a different sort of judgement.

Cold, and absolute, and _determined_ , and he shook his head, took a step back and lifted his hands in a polite display of surrender that did not at all match the curl of a sneer starting to show. He stalked off, cutting through the crowd with more ease than Garland ever had, and Lucy shifted beside him to follow his path with her eyes, hands twisting anxiously.

“Not your business, Luce,” he said, the words low and careful, though he didn’t look away either, felt a guilty flick of relief when Simon reached the sidewalk and he could actually pick out the kid. Felt the familiar twist of frustration and annoyance when Simon caught him by the back of the neck and pushed him along like he weren’t movin’ fast enough, but that wasn’t anything he could fix.

And it could’ve been worse.

Garland squeezed Nathan’s shoulder, a silent reassurance to himself that Nathan was still there, still _fine_.

“Did you see his face?” Lucy asked, very pointedly ignoring Garland’s words. “He’s not going to let this go.”

“Can’t arrest him for bein’ upset,” Garland replied, frustrated. “And we got work to do. Need to talk to Jenny’s family, see what we can find out, see if there’s anything we can do to minimize the risks of somebody else gettin’ hurt.”

“...Right.” Lucy took a breath, and squared her shoulders, and nodded. “You’re going to have to wake Elizabeth.”

“...I know,” Garland said, resigned. He hated to have to do it, it’d been a bad week and she needed the rest, and once he woke her she’d insist on staying up until he got back in, but he couldn’t drag Nathan all over town. It wasn’t fair.

And it wasn’t safe.

“Go, get your son home. I’ll handle things here until you can get back. I’ll let Officer Bates know to call Chief Lewis to get the search parties organized, you can pick me up when you’re ready to go talk to the Mears family. ...Assuming they don’t come to me.” Lucy gestured at the still-growing crowd, cars lining the edges of the street as still more anxious parents arrived.

“You sure-” Garland started, and Lucy reached out, gave his wrist a light squeeze.

“I’ve got this. Go, take care of your family. That’s what you need to do right now.”

“Thanks,” he said, gruff, and Lucy managed a faint flicker of a smile.

“That’s what partners are for, right?”


	2. 1: Welcome to Haven

_Haven, Maine - March, 2010_

It was three days, before Nathan showed up.

It was after midnight, later than anyone had any business showing up and pounding on Duke’s door, but the heavy knock was unmistakable, and Duke sighed and set his book aside. Ignoring him wouldn’t actually make him go away, and honestly, it wasn’t worth the fight.

Not when getting Nathan to seek him out lately seemed to require something between criminal misconduct and a near death experience.

Still, he made at least a basic effort to school his expression into something vaguely disapproving before he opened the door. Nathan stood stiffly on the other side, one arm in a sling, the other supporting a twelve-pack of beer.

“You’re kidding yourself if you think _beer_ is enough to make up for accusing me of murder,” Duke said, by way of greeting, before his concern got the better of him, and he added, “the hell happened to you?”

“Got shot. Can keep the beer, you don’t want it, but ‘m not here to apologize.” Nathan shifted his grip on the box, as though he meant to set it down outside the door, and Duke rolled his eyes.

“Didn’t say I wouldn’t take it, just telling you, as olive branches go, you’re seriously undershooting. Seriously, give me that before you drop it, and when the hell did you get shot? How bad is it? Who patched you up?”

Nathan shoved the box at him with more force than was, strictly speaking, necessary- _deliberately_ , Duke knew, Nathan might not be able to feel, but he was entirely capable of registering resistance. Duke took the box and a few steps back, clearing the doorway so that Nathan could step inside.

“ _Not here to apologize_ ,” Nathan repeated, as though Duke were being particularly dense, “and Dr. Carr says it’ll be fine in a day or two, just didn’t want me pulling the stitches. Not that it’s your business.”

“Sorry, my bad, I forgot that _expressing concern_ was off the table,” Duke sniped, pushing the door closed behind Nathan and throwing the lock. “And you wanna tell me why the hell you showed up here in the middle of the night if you’re not apologizing?”

“Need to talk,” Nathan said, expression going entirely serious, and really, those were about Duke’s least-favorite words in any language, _particularly_ coming from Nathan.

“Great. Sure. Kitchen, go, sit, you eaten yet tonight?”

“Pretty sure,” Nathan replied, shrugging and heading down the ladder toward the softly lit living space. Duke watched him warily, but having one arm held immobile didn’t seem to be affecting his balance too much. Duke followed him down, dropping the beer on the table and going to rummage for a bottle opener and a pair of glasses. Nathan settled himself at the table with the ease of familiarity, even if it couldn’t exactly be called _making himself comfortable_ , reaching out to tilt Duke’s abandoned book so he could read the cover.

“So what do we need to talk about that couldn’t wait until, y’know, _daylight_?” Duke asked, setting the glasses down on the table and pulling his book out of Nathan’s hand, setting it out of reach on the counter behind him. Nathan didn’t get to pry, not tonight, not if he wasn’t actually there to apologize. Nathan scowled, but said nothing about the silent chastisement, handing Duke a bottle of beer instead. Duke took it, prying the top off and handing it back, pushing one of the empty glasses to Nathan’s side of the table along with it. Nathan accepted the open bottle, and handed Duke a second, eyes locked on his hands as Duke popped the top off, expression distant and unsettling.

“...Well?” Duke prompted, after a moment, and Nathan looked up, frowning. He reached into his pocket, and came up with a folded square of paper; he unfolded it, long fingers deliberately precise, and dropped it onto the table in front of Duke. Duke barely glanced at it before he was recoiling, shoving back from the table hard enough to slam his back against the bench. His stomach turned over, pulse rushing in his ears enough that he almost didn’t hear Nathan speak.

“That’s you,” Nathan said, the photo sitting on the table between them like an accusation.

“So?” Duke bit out, more defensive than he wanted to be, but _jesus_ , he hadn’t expected that.

“So Vince and Dave stopped by, handed this to Agent Parker. She thinks the woman you’re with might be her mother.”

“...What?” Duke’s brow furrowed, and he reached out. He picked up the photo, the paper creasing beneath his too-harsh grip, and stared at it. He knew every detail of it, didn’t really need to look- had a copy, worn and yellowed by time, tucked into the bottom of a drawer under an intricate wooden box- but he couldn’t help himself. And it wasn’t as though he didn’t understand; he’d seen the similarity himself, had pushed the thought away while he’d been getting her clean and dry after her plunge into the harbor. Had been trying not to dwell on it.

Apparently he wasn’t going to be given that choice.

“Might be asking questions,” Nathan said, expression carefully neutral; he reached out and took the photo out of Duke’s hands, pulling Duke’s attention back to him.

“I would,” Duke agreed, not quite sure what Nathan was trying to ask- it’d been a long time since he could be completely sure about anything, with Nate.

“You made her coffee,” Nathan said, tone searching, and Duke shrugged one shoulder, flashing an uneasy smile.

“Seemed like the polite thing to do. She’s still a Fed.”

“You’d want to know, in her shoes.”

“She’s _still a Fed_ ,” Duke repeated, shaking his head. “Not even an issue, unless she sticks around.”

“If she does?”

“Then she’s still a cop, and you know how I feel about talking to cops.”

“Even cops that you like?” Nathan asked, tone flat, and Duke narrowed his eyes.

“Jealous?” he asked, which was pushing, and he knew it, but it wouldn’t be the first time.

“You wish,” Nathan replied, scowling, and for an instant, Duke thought that might be it, thought he might stand up and stalk off, all offended dignity and disdain.

Duke hated how much of a relief it was when he picked up his beer, instead, and poured it into the glass Duke had offered.

“Might not have a choice,” Nathan said, after a moment. “Not the only one in town knows what you looked like. Chief was _there_ , he knows it’s you. The Teagues, Eleanor, too.”

“It’s Haven. Keeping secrets might as well be in the town ordinances,” Duke said, with a brittle smile. “Deal with it when it comes up, _if_ it comes up.” Duke poured his beer, as well, and picked it up; he hesitated, and held the glass out. Nathan lifted his glass, tapping it against Duke’s in their customary salute, and Duke felt something tightly twisted in his chest relax slightly at the gesture.

They drank in silence, and it wasn’t like old times, not really, but it was closer than it’d been in far too long. Nathan looked pensive, but didn’t seem to have anything more to say; he nursed his beer and picked at the label on the empty bottle. Duke watched him, feeling the lateness of the hour with every breath, but he made no move to hurry Nathan along. When Nathan finally had finished his beer, he looked almost regretful before he stood up and carried bottle and glass over to the sink.

“‘s late,” he said, and Duke stood as well.

“Yeah,” he agreed, because it’d been _late_ when Nathan showed up. “Thanks for the beer.”

Nathan grunted an acknowledgement, and headed for the ladder; Duke followed, sliding past him to unlock the door, and pausing before he opened it.

“And Nate?”

Nathan stopped, looking expectant, and Duke tilted his head in a brief nod.

“Thanks for the head’s up. I owe you one.”

“Not for this,” Nathan replied, gruff. “But yeah, you do.”

“Asshole,” Duke said, more fondly than he’d intended. “Don’t pull your stitches driving home.”

Nathan just rolled his eyes, and pushed past him and out the door. Duke watched him navigate the deck, and then the dock, lingering in the doorway until his taillights faded from view; maybe it wasn’t intended as an apology, but Duke was going to count it anyway.


	3. 2: Butterfly

Nathan hesitated, but made his way down onto the deck anyway, bottle of whiskey in one hand. It was late, late enough that he really ought to be sleeping, not knocking on doors, but he hadn’t been able to shake the anxious melancholy that talking to Audrey had raised.

Which was a perfectly reasonable excuse for the whiskey, but not a particularly good one for where he was.

Still, he knocked on the door hard enough to make sure he would be heard, and waited, leaning against the frame. It was probably cold- from what he could see, and from the scent of the air, he was pretty sure it was a chilly night, and the metal shell of the Rouge lost heat rapidly once it got dark- but it didn’t exactly bother him, and it’d been a long day. He could hear movement, barely audible, footfalls approaching, listened carefully enough to be standing up straight by the time they reached the other side of the door.

The door swung inward, Duke’s lean frame filling the space, limned in stark gold from the light that spilled up from the kitchen. He looked tired, and slightly disheveled, but his expression was carefully neutral; his eyes flicked between Nathan’s face, and the bottle in his hand, head tilting just slightly. Nathan saw the slight lift in his brow as he weighed the meaning of the Black Velvet Reserve, braced himself for the inevitable needling- reconsidered the merit of being there, because he _wasn’t_ apologizing- but Duke just stepped out of the doorway, inclining his head and making space.

“Hurry up- it’s cold, and keeping her heated costs me a fortune,” he said, when Nathan hesitated. Nathan told himself it wasn’t a relief to be beckoned in without question, told himself it didn’t soothe the sharp sting of the Rev’s assertion that he _walked alone_. It wasn’t as if Nathan needed to be reassured that the Rev was full of shit, after all, he _knew_ that much.

Still, something in him relaxed when he crossed the threshold, when Duke closed the door behind him and threw the lock like he expected Nathan to stay awhile. Like he was _welcome_ to stay awhile, and really, he should be over that. Should’ve been over that a long time ago.

“When was the last time you ate?” Duke asked, and Nathan rolled his eyes.

“Every time,” he said, a note of derision in his voice, and Duke shot him a look.

“Yeah, well, you didn’t make it a habit to skip meals, I wouldn’t have to ask. And you’re dodging the question.”

“Early dinner,” Nathan said, descending the ladder into the kitchen with a deliberate huff.

“By which you mean _lunch_ ,” Duke countered, like he had the right, like he was still expected to know Nathan’s habits. “How drunk are you planning on getting?”

“Fairly,” Nathan admitted, because there wasn’t exactly much point in denying it- he’d shown up after midnight with a bottle, he clearly wasn’t there with the intent to stay sober.

“You either eat, or take the couch, your choice,” Duke said, shrugging and heading for the cabinet, and Nathan glowered at his back, but he couldn’t actually _object_ \- and he knew if he argued, Duke would either send him home or steal his keys, and neither was something he wanted to deal with.

“Plannin’ on cooking?” he asked, instead of actually directly yielding the point, and Duke paused in the midst of getting ice out of the freezer.

“God, you’re demanding,” Duke accused, the words soft around a familiar smile. “You get soup. Reheated soup. And, because I am not a barbarian, you may also have bread.”

“Such generous hospitality,” Nathan sniped, fighting a smile of his own. He shouldn’t let his guard down; he wasn’t there to _socialize_ , he was there to have a few drinks and offer a few words, nothing more, but there were moments-

-didn’t matter. He couldn’t afford to let his guard down. He knew better.

“Hey, you show up after midnight, without warning- _again_ \- you get what you get.” Duke dropped the pair of glasses on the table, and turned back to the refrigerator, gesturing casually; Nathan took the hint, and poured them both a generous measure while Duke rummaged. “And, y’know, don’t take this the wrong way, but, uh, _why_?” 

Nathan scowled down at his glass, trying not to hear the edge of thinly-veiled _hope_ under the wary curiosity; he shouldn’t have come, was treading on dangerous ground. For both of them. But the situation had changed, and maybe it was a bad habit, but Nathan didn’t exactly want to leave Duke in a position to get caught flat-footed.

“Agent Parker,” he started, watching Duke warily from beneath lowered brows, and he saw Duke’s shoulders go tight at the name, “didn’t go back to Boston.”

“Noticed that,” Duke said, voice as tight as his posture, and he kept his back to Nathan as much as he could while tossing things on the stove. Nathan took a drink, hating how much that bothered him.

“The Chief offered her a job,” he continued, and Duke fumbled a pot- not badly, just enough to make noise, just enough to give away that he hadn’t expected that. Good to know that there were a _few_ things Nathan still heard before Duke did. “She knows.”

“Knows _what_?” Duke asked, yielding, turning to face Nathan, expression wary and braced- no, _disappointed_ , as though he’d already decided that Nathan had violated their careful terms. It left a sour note on Nathan’s tongue, a flare of anger that he didn’t bother to push down- _Nathan_ wasn’t the one with a bad habit of breaking trust.

“The Troubles,” Nathan said, tone flat. “She knows ‘bout the Troubles.”

“ _Christ_ ,” Duke exhaled, expression shifting to something like worry. “How the hell did that happen?”

“Told her,” Nathan said, shrugging, just to see the look of utter disbelief on Duke’s face. “Been in town a week, run head-on inta two of ‘em, she’s smart enough to put the pieces together. No point pretendin’.”

“You _told her_ ,” Duke said, still looking completely thrown, and it’d been awhile since Nathan had managed to get such a reaction- it almost soothed his irritation at Duke’s pre-emptive disappointment.

Almost.

“She got wrapped up in a _cocoon_ made out of her hotel blanket, saw the Rev get dragged around by his medallion, we nearly _wrecked_ ‘cause a kid was projecting his dreams. She _knew_ , I just... gave her a word for it.”

“...Your dad offered her a _job_?” Duke asked, before his expression rolled right back to _worried_. “What do you mean, ‘nearly wrecked’?”

“Soup’s gonna scorch,” Nathan said, and Duke cursed and turned back to the stove, and Nathan took another drink. “Chief thinks she might have... a way with things. That she fits in.”

“And what do _you_ think?” Duke asked, glancing back in his direction, though without taking his full attention off of the cooktop.

“Told her she should take it,” Nathan admitted.

“You _want_ her to stay? You want her asking questions, getting involved in- all this?” Duke sounded surprised, and not entirely pleased, and Nathan wasn’t sure whether it was his distrust of anyone with a badge, or his Haven-bred instincts for keeping outsiders _out_ of Haven’s business, or just a general sense of sympathy for _anyone_ getting involved in the Troubles and all that went with them.

“She wants to know where she comes from. Wants to know about her mother,” Nathan said, letting a hint of judgement enter his tone. “Can’t blame her for that.”

“Don’t have to _encourage_ her, either,” Duke said, tensing up further. He pulled the pot of soup off of the burner with more force than seemed wise, and Nathan was fairly sure he’d never seen anyone aggressively ladle before, but Duke was doing a fairly admirable job of managing exactly that. “You know how this town is, Nate, she really deserve this?”

“Not my call,” Nathan said shortly, flexing his fingers around his glass. “Not yours, either.”

“You know I can’t even tell her anything about that damn picture?” Duke asked, bringing over the bowl of soup, and it rattled when he set it on the table. “You _know_ I don’t remember.”

“But you know who she is. The woman.”

“So do you!” Duke snapped, and Nathan blinked, eyes narrowing.

“No, I don’t,” he said, a gnawing edge of uncertainty creeping across his thoughts. “Never seen her before.”

“...Yes, you have,” Duke replied, but the sharpness had gone from his voice; he sounded _tired_ , tired and regretful and sympathetic. “You don’t remember?”

“I...” Nathan tried to call up any familiarity, any sense of _recognition_ , and came up blank; looking at the photo, he’d known Duke immediately, but all the woman had brought to mind was Agent Parker. “No. No, I don’t- I didn’t know her.”

“This fucking town,” Duke said, the words weary, and he turned back, went to the counter and came back with a loaf of bread and a spoon, dropping them beside the bowl of soup. The bread was half-gone and wrapped in familiar paper; Rosemary’s, and Nathan could smell the olive oil and rosemary even over the comfortable warm creaminess of the soup.

High class leftovers, not exactly in line with Duke’s somewhat-disparaging words.

Duke always did put on a show, but he’d never quite managed to shake the habit of _caring_. And he’d taken care of Agent Parker; saved her life, cleaned her up, made her coffee. Flirted over handcuffs and the station table, given information a hell of a lot faster than he usually gave it, even though he’d been (perhaps justifiably) pissed off at Nathan at the time. He wasn’t bitching just to bitch, wasn’t being stubborn out of sheer mulishness- he was _worried_.

Nathan wondered just who he was worrying for, wondered if Duke would even admit it, if Nathan tried to call him on it.

Wondered, too, if Duke knew himself.

“Who was she?” Nathan asked, leaning forward as Duke dropped into the seat across from him. “The woman in the photo, who was she?”

“Why don’t you ask your dad?” Duke asked, lifting his glass in an ironic salute and tossing back more of it in one shot than he really _should_ without giving Nathan time to respond. “Like you said, he was there. He knows.”

“You really tellin’ me to go to the Chief ‘fore I come to you?” Nathan asked, needling, and Duke scowled at him.

“Uncalled for,” he said, gesturing with his glass. “Don’t go there unless you mean it.”

“You say I knew her, at least tell me who she was,” Nathan wheedled.

“I don’t- this is personal shit, man, I don’t... Can we not do this? Please?” Duke asked, and Nathan hesitated, but reached for the loaf of bread, pulling it out of its paper wrapper.

“Won’t go beyond this room,” he offered, very deliberately tearing a chunk off of the loaf, and holding the bulk of it out. _Breaking bread_ , deliberate and visible, and Duke’s eyes narrowed, hesitation visible even as he reached out automatically to accept Nathan’s offering.

“You really _should_ talk to the Chief,” Duke said, tearing a corner off of the loaf of bread and setting it back down on top of the wrapper. “But _just between us_ , her name is Lucy. Lucy Ripley.”

“That’s not much,” Nathan said, dipping his bread in his soup, and taking a bite, hoping it wasn’t hot enough to burn.

“What do you want from me? I was a kid, Nate, you know the full personal history of every single person you met when we were _eight_?” Duke glowered at him, and took another drink, but he leaned back in his seat, posture loosening. “She was nice. I remember that.” Duke fidgeted, and Nathan was pretty sure he remembered more than just that _she was nice_ , but he didn’t push; Duke was talking, at least. “Saw you with her, at least once. With the Chief. Don’t think it’d been a good day for anyone, but I couldn’t tell you what was happening.”

“You remember _when_?” Nathan asked, disliking the steady build of anxiety at the thought that he was _missing something_ , that Duke knew something about Nathan’s past that Nathan _didn’t_.

“...May,” Duke said, though he didn’t sound entirely certain; he shifted, reached for his glass but didn’t drink, and shook his head. “May, or early June. School was almost out, it was after Easter break.”

“...Memorial day weekend,” Nathan said, a distant sort of rushing noise filling his ears; he felt off-balance, like the ship had lurched beneath him- but it hadn’t, nothing on the table had moved, the light hadn’t started to sway. “The- the trip, the camping trip.”

“...Yes,” Duke said, expression clearing for a second, before shifting to something grim and uneasy. “Yeah, that- why, though? I mean, your dad, I get, the police, the fire department, the EMTs, but... Why Lucy? She wasn’t a parent, wasn’t- I don’t _think_ she was a cop...”

“You really don’t know?” Nathan asked, trying to keep his tone careful, but Duke still bristled, shooting him an irritated glare.

“I _don’t_. I- maybe I did, I don’t know, but if I ever did, I _don’t now_. Things are _missing_ , okay, and I know it, and I don’t know _what_ or _why_ and it’s not exactly something I like thinking about!”

“Okay,” Nathan said, lifting his hands in a brief gesture of surrender, “okay. Not an accusation.”

“Right,” Duke said, tone flat, and he reached for the bottle of whiskey. He topped off his glass and took another too-long drink, holding the silence with a deliberateness that Nathan knew well enough not to interrupt; if he did, it’d be a real fight, and Nathan wasn’t ready to be thrown out just yet.

Nathan waited, letting Duke work through his moment of pique. Duke looked slightly disgruntled at the lack of challenge, but his shoulders relaxed and his expression was one of reluctant engagement when he put his glass back down.

“Wait, did- you remembered, the weekend, do you remember-?”

“No,” Nathan said, not bothering to hide his frustration. “Knew that was it, but I don’t know _why_.”

“Everyone was in the parking lot,” Duke said, the words slow and cautious. “The buses were lined up at the curb. People were- there was a lot of noise. Shouting, crying. The, uh, the fire trucks were there- everything was red and yellow, from the, the lights. You were. Were standing with your dad, by the fire trucks. Not by the buses. He had his hand on your shoulder, he was- upset. Keeping you close. Lucy was with him, they were talking to Mrs. Holloway. She was crying.”

“...Remember that,” Nathan said, the words hesitant, just as slow and cautious as Duke’s. He remembered his father holding his shoulder, remembered hiding his face against his father’s side, shielding himself from the flashing lights. He remembered Mrs. Holloway sobbing, remembered how it had shaken him to see- not just her tears, but the fear in his father’s eyes, the sharp, bright wildness of the grief that had surrounded him.

Four school buses, to take them all out to the campsite. All of them, except twelve, packed onto three on the trip back. Nathan had sat against the window, because it didn’t hurt his elbow to be pressed against the side of the bus by the weight of Hannah and Ian and Carla Rose crowded onto the seat beside him.

Duke had been two seats up, on an aisle, leaning into Bill’s side. It’d been the quietest bus ride Nathan had ever taken, even with the overcrowding.

He remembered _that_ , remembered his father, why didn’t he remember Lucy?

“What else?” Nathan asked, watching Duke’s hands flex and move restlessly along the edge of the table.

“I- I don’t know,” Duke said, a hint of frustration lacing his tone. “I wanted-” Duke cut himself off, expression flickering; he brought one hand up to scratch at his cheek, which covered his mouth, an absent gesture that telegraphed his distress even more than his sudden silence, and he huffed out a breath, sharp and anxious. “My dad picked me up, I don’t- he was _pissed_. He wasn’t just- he wasn’t scared, or relieved, like most of the parents. He was upset, but he was _angry_ , too. I didn’t- we left. Quickly. I didn’t see much more.”

Nathan nodded, and picked up his glass, taking a long drink; he wanted to press, wanted to demand _more_ , to drag out every last detail Duke could possibly come up with, but he knew better. Duke had mentioned Simon- the discussion was _closed_ , he would have to make do with what he had.

“Chief hasn’t said anything,” Nathan offered, and Duke slumped in his seat, visibly relieved at the change of topic. “Not to me, not to Agent Parker either, far as I can tell.”

“I told you. It’s Haven, there might as well be a law,” Duke said, rolling his eyes. “Strange, though. If he’d just told her, she’d probably be back in Boston already. Wouldn’t have gotten caught up in another Trouble, wouldn’t be asking questions.”

“...He offered her a job,” Nathan reminded, and frowned. “Wouldn’t’ve done that, he didn’t _want_ her to stick around.”

“Why the hell would your dad want a Fed to stay in Haven? Hell, even the Coast Guard has to fight to get any traction with Haven PD, the Chief doesn’t exactly have a great track record with inter-agency cooperation.”

“Don’t think he wants a _Fed_ , think he wants _her_. He looked- pleased, she decided to tag along on this case. Didn’t want to ask questions at the time, but it was... odd.” 

“So what’re you thinking?” Duke asked, leaning forward, and for a moment, it was exactly like it used to be; Duke watching him, waiting for him to call their play, like they were back on the same side. Like they were a team again, the two of them against the world, like sharing information and working things through together was the rule, and not the necessary exception.

And that was a problem, was why Nathan shouldn’t have gone to the Rouge, no matter how unsteady he’d felt. _Because_ of how unsteady he’d felt.

“Thinking whatever the Chief’s up to is his business,” Nathan said, the words short, almost clipped. “And I don’t know enough to tell Parker anything, but I’m not gonna get in her way.”

Duke drew back in response to his tone, looking, for just an instant, _stung_ , before he put on a casual smile and reached for his glass.

“You like her,” Duke said, shrugging. “You want to help.”

“I have to work with her,” Nathan said, glowering. “And so far, she’s a _reliable_ partner.” The words were sharper than they needed to be, deliberately cutting, and Duke’s casual smile went razor sharp, a poor shield for the way his eyes went cold.

“I hope that works out for you,” he said, the words biting. “And I hope she knows what she’s getting into.”

Nathan stood up, too fast, clipping the bolted-down table, but it wasn’t like he’d feel the bruise. Duke mirrored him with far more grace, and it shouldn’t hurt, Nathan was the one who’d tried to draw back, but it still burned to see Duke position himself to take a blow, to see how readily he braced for a fight.

It’d been a mistake, letting his guard down, even for an hour.

Still, he had no intention of turning this into a real fight; it wasn’t worth the fallout, and there was no question that _distance_ had been firmly re-established. Some part of him hated how little it took, how easy it was to go from familiar camaraderie to simmering antagonism, but he hadn’t done that. Duke had. And Nathan couldn’t afford to forget it.

“Just keep out of the way,” Nathan said, the words flat. “Won’t help, you get yourself in the middle of this.”

“Yeah, that’s not exactly a surprise,” Duke bit back, hands flexing at his sides- Nathan could see the frustration in the gesture, the urge to lash out. Knew he was seething at Nathan’s refusal to do anything more than _walk away_ , but then, that’d always been the fastest way to piss Duke off. He didn’t handle being _dismissed_ well.

Nathan very pointedly turned his back, heading for the ladder, and heard the uneven hitch of breath behind him, an entirely unsatisfying victory. He was halfway up the ladder before Duke moved to follow, catching up and shoving past him to get to the door first, unlocking it and pulling it open. Nathan pushed past him in turn, and he was halfway down the deck before Duke called after him.

“You might want to get your jacket out of the truck; it’s cold tonight. Enjoy your walk.”

Nathan turned, a flare of indignation rising up before he’d even started to reach for his pocket, but Duke very deliberately jangled Nathan’s keys at him as he flicked him a flippant wave farewell. Then the door slammed shut, and Nathan heard the lock slam home even past the echo. Nathan swore, temper pounding in the beat of his pulse in his ears, and he should have seen that coming. He knew damn well there wasn’t any point in going back to the door; he could bang on the damn thing until his hands bled, Duke wouldn’t let him back in, not tonight. And the noise would inevitably cause _someone_ to call the station, and this wasn’t anything Nathan wanted to explain.

Snarling curses and threats he’d never follow through on, Nathan headed to the Bronco and yanked the door open, pulling his jacket out of the backseat. It wasn’t _that_ far a walk to the station, and no one would question him coming back in- it wasn’t exactly uncommon, and he could sleep on the couch in his office.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

And it wasn’t like he had much choice, since Duke had confiscated his house key along with his car key.

A single car drove past as he was shrugging his jacket on, and the flash of red from the tail lights jerked his thoughts very abruptly away from his anger; he felt a wash of cold that had nothing to do with any physical temperature, memories long set aside rising sharply to the surface.

He’d hated the brightness of the lights, the loudness of the crowd- it had seemed _wrong_ , after the overwhelming quiet of the bus ride.

Twelve students, and two chaperones- one parent, and one classroom assistant. Nathan hadn’t thought about it in years, hadn’t wanted to. None of them had wanted to; it was one more thing Haven had done its best to bury. But he remembered how much he’d hated the lights, remembered that it wasn’t just his father keeping him close, that he’d been unwilling to move away, even for a few minutes. Remembered his father asking Mrs. Holloway questions, remembered-

-a second voice. A woman, not Mrs. Holloway. She’d been calm and steady, _quiet_ amidst the chaos.

When he tried to bring her face to mind, when he tried to dig more out of the memory, all he could see was Audrey Parker.

It wasn’t enough, it wasn’t _anything_. Nathan couldn’t even be sure he was _remembering_ anything at all, couldn’t be sure it wasn’t just whiskey and suggestion and the weight of old wounds. Sure as hell wasn’t anything he could bring to Agent Parker, not without explaining things he’d promised not to.

He’d worry about it later.

Nathan zipped his coat up, closed the door, and started walking.

***

In the morning, Nathan woke to Stan politely tapping on the doorframe.

“Morning, Detective,” Stan said, when Nathan sat up; Nathan was momentarily grateful that he couldn’t feel whatever his stomach did in response to the way the room lurched around him. “Might want to move your car before the Chief gets in.”

“What?” Nathan said, before he could think better of it, and then he shook his head. “Yeah, yes. Thanks. I’ll handle it.”

“Okay, Detective. Coffee’s fresh, too, so you know.”

“Thanks, Stan,” Nathan said, nodding, and Stan vanished from his doorway; Nathan stood up, dragged a hand across his face as he tried to marshal his thoughts, and glanced out the window.

His Bronco was parked out front, sitting squarely across one half of a handicapped spot and one half of the adjacent regular parking space. Returned, with the keys no doubt tucked above the visor, right where he could see it, right where it’d be available to him without him having to walk back down to the harbor.

And positioned just so, so that Nathan could not avoid hearing the obvious jibe: _ticket this._

Nathan huffed out a noise that was definitely, absolutely _not_ a laugh, and headed outside to move his car.


	4. 3: Harmony

“Hey, sit here a sec, okay?” Duke said, giving Lily’s shoulder a careful squeeze; Nathan’s lanky outline had appeared in the doorway, and however much Duke might resent being put on babysitting duty- _again_ \- he was going to see it through properly. Lily nodded, hunching in on herself- against the cool air, or against Haven itself, he couldn’t tell- and Duke gave her a brief smile and headed across the short distance to the door.

Nathan stepped outside to meet him, stone-faced as usual, but there was a relaxed edge to the set of his shoulders, and his movement wasn’t any more careful than standard.

“Everything okay?” Duke asked anyway, because nothing was ever certain.

“Handled,” Nathan said, with a short nod. “Can bring Lily in.”

“Good,” Duke said, hoping it sounded more like he was pleased that the situation was under control, and less like he was slightly worried about how long Lily had before she went back to having violent tendencies. He’d been beat on enough for one day, he didn’t really want to play punching bag a second time.

Babysitter was bad enough.

Nathan stood, looking expectant- and increasingly impatient- and Duke rolled his eyes.

“Right, you mean me,” Duke said, and he turned and jogged back down to where he’d left Lily beside the car. “Hey, so, Nathan says you can come inside, now. He says everything’s fine.”

“Oh, thank God,” Lily said, and Duke was pretty sure _God_ had nothing to do with it, but he put on a polite smile and kept pace with her back to the door. He fixed Nathan with a pointed look, clearly indicating that he should take over- he wasn’t a goddamn sheepdog, this was _not_ his department- and Nathan very carefully took hold of Lily’s elbow, guiding her into the hall.

“Comin’ in, or waitin’ with the car?” Nathan asked, over her head, and Duke held both hands up.

“I’ll stay with the car, you all have fun,” he said, and Nathan’s expression shifted to the particular brand of _annoyed_ that he only ever seemed to exhibit around Duke, but he nodded.

“Fine. Drive you home when we’re done.” He turned his attention to Lily, and Duke immediately tuned him out, heading back down to the car. The Freddy creeped him out; he was much happier to wait for Nathan and Audrey _outside_ the hospital. Besides, it was a nice night; he hopped up onto the hood of the Bronco and leaned back, watching the stars and the scuttling clouds that promised real weather by tomorrow afternoon.

***

It was almost an hour later, and Duke was starting to get decidedly restless, before Nathan came back out. Duke pushed himself up, and frowned- Nathan was alone, Agent Parker nowhere to be seen.

“What’s going on?” he asked, wary, and Nathan shook his head, a silent dismissal of Duke’s tone.

“You got access to a trailer big enough to tow the Caprice?” he asked, and it wasn’t at all what Duke had expected to hear; he blinked, considering, and shrugged, hopping down off the hood of the Bronco.

“Yeah, I could swing that. Why? _When_?”

“Now,” Nathan said, and Duke blinked again. “Tonight.”

“...What?”

“Need to get the Caprice to the water, make sure she’s prepped to launch. Need her ready to go by first light. Parker, Lucassi, and Ray negotiated terms. ...Could use your help.” The last was offered grudgingly, with Nathan not quite meeting his eyes, but Duke still knew an olive branch when he heard one.

Which was a nice bonus, given that Nathan had already offered more of an apology than Duke had any right to expect.

“...Yeah, okay,” Duke said, heading for the passenger side of the truck. Nathan looked slightly relieved, and Duke wasn’t entirely sure if it had more to do with not having to try and manage the task alone, or that whole olive branch thing, but Duke was going to choose to believe it was the latter. He felt he was entitled to that much, after the day he’d had, apology or not. He settled himself in the passenger seat, making himself comfortable as Nathan got the engine going, and gestured vaguely in the direction of the docks. “Ernie’s got a trailer big enough, and he owes me a favor, he won’t care if I borrow it so long as it’s back by tomorrow.”

Nathan cut a sideways glance in his direction, and Duke could _hear_ him thinking, _you mean before he notices you took it_ , but he managed to restrain himself from comment, just headed in the direction of Ernie’s yard. Duke let himself smile, just a bit, and leaned his head back against the top of the seat.

They were halfway to the yard when Nathan broke the silence, voice low and careful.

“Why’re you doin’ this?”

“...You _asked_ ,” Duke said, sitting up. “You’re not still feeling... y’know, _confused_ , right?”

“Not _this_ ,” Nathan said, sounding annoyed, “all of this, today. Gettin’ involved. Not exactly _your style_.”

“Told you, I wanted to know what was going on,” Duke said, with a sharp smile.

“You knew _exactly_ what was goin’ on,” Nathan said, scowling. “You knew it was a Trouble.”

“Yeah, I did. And you knew I knew. And now, Officer Parker will know I know, too,” Duke replied, a hint of sharpness entering his tone. “You’re the one who thinks I should be talking to her, make it a whole lot easier if she knows what page I’m on.”

“And what, you’ve just decided you’re gonna help her?” Nathan asked, sounding incredulous.

“Haven’t _decided_ anything,” Duke said, stomach twisting at that tone, at the idea that it was such a stretch that he’d ever consider just helping out because he could. He flexed the fingers of his left hand, still feeling the ache in his knuckles from his lapse in control, the punch he shouldn’t have thrown; it hurt less than the memory of those vicious, laughing accusations. “But you know I like to keep my options open.”

“Gonna be a hell of a lot harder to keep from having to answer questions, you decide you’re gonna get involved,” Nathan said, and it sounded more like a warning than a threat, but Duke bristled anyway.

“You think I don’t know that? I can take care of myself, Nathan, and _you came to me_. Today, _now_ , earlier, and after your last couple cases, _you came to me_.” Duke shifted in his seat, temper thrumming beneath his skin, energy with nowhere to go. It wasn’t like Duke had been going out of his way to get involved, but what the hell was he supposed to do when he _was_ , like it or not? It was only practical to make sure he played the situation to his advantage.

It was only reasonable to use what little leverage he had, if he was going to have to work around the situation anyway.

“I shouldn’t’ve,” Nathan said, and Duke had to work not to flinch from those words. They were _true_ , after all, it wasn’t like it was any kind of surprise that they weren’t exactly in the same corner any longer, but he still hated hearing it.

“Yeah, well, you did,” Duke bit out, “and we both know you’re not going to stop.”

“Not what I meant,” Nathan said, the words oddly conciliatory, and Duke cut a glance in his direction, eyes narrow. Nathan’s hands were tight around the steering wheel, his expression difficult to read in the shifting contrast of passing streetlights. “What happened, earlier...”

He looked _uncertain_ , off-balance, and Duke remembered his confusion, when he’d first started to come out from under the Trouble’s influence. Duke had put off any explanation, left that for Officer Parker to manage- he hadn’t been willing to deal with it, hadn’t been prepared to walk Nathan through what’d happened, but he’d seen Nathan making connections. Had seen him weighing the damage up on deck, and on both of their persons when Duke had let him in so he could clean up and have a cup of coffee to help clear his head.

Honestly, Duke hadn’t figured it’d still be bothering Nathan; it wasn’t like it was the first time Nathan had started throwing punches, and Audrey had dropped him before he’d done any _serious_ damage. But it seemed like maybe it was.

“Earlier on the Rouge, or earlier at the Scupper?” Duke asked, trying to push Nathan to continue, because again, nothing was ever certain.

“...Both,” Nathan said, expression going sour, and Duke waited, turned just enough to convey that he was listening. “Shouldn’t’ve been lookin’ for a fight, at the Scupper.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t have to take you up on it,” Duke replied, shrugging. “And I didn’t need to push. You were an ass, but I was out of line.”

“What’d I say, while I was under?” Nathan asked, the uncertainty back in his voice.

“Don’t worry about it,” Duke said, turning away, trying to keep Nathan from reading anything in his expression, anything he might give away. “Wasn’t you.”

“That bad?” Nathan asked, clearly not even a little bit fooled, and Duke huffed out a sigh.

“Nothing I haven’t heard before,” he said, which was true; it just hurt a hell of a lot more coming from Nathan. Which wasn’t anything Duke needed to admit.

“Sure you don’t want to file that complaint?” Nathan asked, a searching edge in his tone, and Duke shook his head, gave a wry laugh.

“Told you. Not my style. But you owe me.”

“Really rather deal with the reprimand,” Nathan said, but there was a careful, teasing note in the gruff words, and Duke let himself relax, offered a slightly more genuine laugh in response.

“Oh, I know.”

***

They gathered the trailer without difficulty; getting the Caprice properly arranged was a little more of a challenge, but they managed. Between the two of them, they did as thorough a check as they could, in the dark and on an unfamiliar vessel, before they backed the trailer down the slipway. Once she was floating and securely tied off at the dock, they did a second check, just to be sure, but she seemed seaworthy enough. Nathan checked in with Officer Parker on the phone while Duke returned the trailer to its proper place and made sure he locked up, and they were back at the dock in time to see the first edge of dawn on the horizon.

Duke took himself out of the way as Nathan met up with Officer Parker and her bold crew of escapees, hanging back and watching them load up. He considered walking home; the Rouge was only a few piers down, and they clearly didn’t actually need him, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to leave. It wasn’t like he was actually _invested_ , it was none of his business, but it’d been awhile since he’d done any daring midnight launches. It’d been... fun, a reminder of both teenage hijinks and more adult dramatics, but with none of the ever-present threat of arrest in the background.

He wasn’t entirely sure what to think of that.

But whatever; it wasn’t like he’d had anything better to do, and it wouldn’t be the first time in recent memory that he’d pulled an all-nighter on short notice. Benefits of _not_ being trapped in a nine-to-five, _he’d_ be able to go home and sleep once the Caprice had departed. And while he’d sure as hell never admit it to anyone else, there was something satisfying in knowing he’d been able to help someone out. Hopefully, Lily and Ray would make the most of their second chance, and they were apparently already sharing their opportunity with others- definitely a karma-positive project. 

He could feel good about this, no matter how it started.

The boat began to pull away, and a surge of unease rolled down Duke’s spine; Officer Parker had gone tense, was calling back and forth with one of the other patients Ray had been able to help. Everything about her posture spoke of urgency and concern, and she tipped forward onto her toes as though trying to follow the Caprice, as though whatever was being said was important enough to risk another very cold swim.

And then the ship was shrinking, sliding away over the water, and she dropped back onto her heels, shoulders slumping. She looked _lost_ , like something of value was disappearing with it, and Duke knew that feeling entirely too well, felt a sympathetic ache well up before he could quash it. And that, that was _dangerous_ , was something he couldn’t afford; Audrey Parker was not his problem, he didn’t owe her anything.

_You’d want to know, in her shoes_.

Duke cut a glance back across the pier to Nathan, who was watching Officer Parker watch the Caprice; he was being careful about it, holding himself so that it wasn’t blatantly obvious, but Duke had known him too long not to know where his focus was. He had his shoulders hunched, his hands shoved in his jacket pockets- concern, and helplessness, uncertainty. A goddamn open book, and Duke cursed silently. He didn’t want to feel guilty about this.

This wasn’t his business. Getting involved in Haven’s secrets, digging through Haven’s past, it never ended well. The smart thing was to walk away. Go home, get some sleep, be happy enough with the good deed he’d already done.

But then, it wasn’t like anyone ever really believed he was all that smart, anyway.

He drifted over in Officer Parker’s direction, not quite casual, and put on a careful smile, drew up a soft, teasing tone.

“You’re not gonna tell anyone, right?”

***

Nathan headed for his truck, and Duke moved to intersect his path, falling in beside him.

“Not seriously holdin’ me to givin’ you a ride home?” Nathan asked, mostly, if Duke was any judge, for something to say. Duke chuckled, and shook his head.

“No, I can walk. Just wondering what that was about.”

“Could ask the same,” Nathan said, glancing sideways.

“Like I said, however this plays out, it’s easier for everybody if she knows what page I’m on,” Duke said, trying not to show how much he knew that probably wasn’t true. _Easier_ would be Officer Parker assuming he didn’t know a damn thing, and he knew it, but Nathan was right. Duke would want to know, if he were in her place. “Just making sure that happened.”

Nathan glanced at him again, and Duke tried to keep his shoulders loose, tried to keep his expression steady. He doubted it’d work, Nathan knew him just as well as he knew Nathan, but he had to try. After a moment’s pause, Nathan nodded, a brief acknowledgement.

“Parker just got a first name. Mr. Sperry told her. She knows she’s looking for a Lucy,” Nathan said.

“...Ah.” Duke took a measured breath, and another, and nodded in turn. “Well, that’s, that’s good. Good for her.”

“Still not off the hook,” Nathan pointed out, expression flickering, and Duke shrugged.

“Not the only one. You talk to your dad yet?”

Nathan didn’t answer until he’d reached his truck, and paused with his hand resting against the door.

“No. Not yet.”

“There ain’t ever gonna be a _right moment_ , Nate,” Duke said, not quite chiding, but coming closer than he probably should. It’d been a long day, and Nathan was touchy at the best of times.

“It ever keep you up at night? That things’re missing?” Nathan asked, and Duke forced a smile, sharp and uncomfortable, to cover the hitch in his breathing. He cuffed Nathan’s shoulder hard enough to make him rock to the side, enough so that he’d know he’d been touched even though he wasn’t looking.

“You know me. I live in the now,” Duke said, voice full of false cheer.

“...Right,” Nathan said, tone full of too much understanding. “Prob’ly be a lot easier.”

“Wouldn’t it just,” Duke agreed, before he could think better of it. Nathan pulled the door of the truck open and got himself settled; when he turned back, Duke could see just how tired he was.

“Sure you don’t want a lift? Need to head back out to the Freddy, take a statement, but you’re not far out of the way.”

“It’s like, a block and a half, I’m good,” Duke replied, shaking his head. “Stop for coffee on your way, you look like hell.”

“Thanks,” Nathan groused, and Duke flashed a sunny smile.

“You’re welcome.”

Nathan very pointedly slammed the door, and Duke smirked as he started off toward _home_.

It could’ve been a worse day, all things considered.


	5. 4: Consumed

This was getting to be a habit, and it was one Nathan really needed to break.

It was once again decidedly past midnight, and Nathan couldn’t even pretend that it wasn’t essentially a social call. Not a cheerful one, not even close, but there wasn’t any pat excuse, wasn’t any warning to deliver or question to raise. There was just the churning frustration of an unsatisfactory outcome, and the sharp sting of Duke’s expression when Nathan had told him that they needed to ask him a few questions.

They’d exchanged more than a few hurtful words, over the years, but Nathan wasn’t sure he’d seen Duke look _that_ betrayed since Nathan had told him he was going to the Academy.

He knocked more quietly than usual, half hoping that Duke wouldn’t actually answer, that Nathan wouldn’t have to admit or justify this to anyone but himself. That he’d be able to slink away quietly and tell himself that _he’d tried_ and pacify his conscience without actually having to let his guard down.

But his luck wasn’t that good, if that was even the right word, and there was an echo of movement from below. The door swung open, and Duke blinked at him, visibly surprised and surprisingly unguarded. There were shadows under his eyes and the scent of woodsmoke and beer and herbs hung around him; his hair was mussed, like he’d run his hands through it more than usual, and all in all it was not the appearance of angry, brittle grief Nathan had expected.

“Nate,” Duke said, still looking entirely caught off guard, and Nathan held up the bottle of rum that he vaguely recalled being Geoff’s drink of choice when they’d been sneaking alcohol back in school.

“Thought maybe you could do with some company,” Nathan said, trying not to resent the words even as he said them. “All things considered.”

“Uh. ...Yeah, no, I- yeah, come on in,” Duke said, which was decidedly more inarticulate than Duke usually allowed himself to be, even surprised. Nathan waited a long moment, but Duke didn’t actually move out of the doorway, despite his invitation. With a faint huff of annoyance, Nathan pushed past him, nudging him out of the way and turning to close the door behind himself. Duke moved only as much as Nathan moved him, and Nathan scowled at him, trying not to let on that he was starting to be concerned.

“What’s with you?” he asked, deliberately gruff. Duke looked, for a moment, like he didn’t understand the question, and Nathan’s discomfort ratcheted up; he knew Duke had been upset, but it’d been a long damn time since he’d drunk himself stupid, and he didn’t exactly _look_ plastered. Just _off_. Duke was quiet another moment, before he seemed to realize that Nathan actually expected a verbal answer, and drew himself up like he was physically collecting his thoughts.

“Bill just sold me the Second Chance.” Duke sounded like he was having trouble believing it; Nathan wasn’t sure _he_ did. The restaurant had been in the McShaw family for _generations_ , had been part of the fabric of the town- it wasn’t something easily surrendered, and Nathan couldn’t think of a _less_ likely person for someone to hand their family legacy over to than Duke.

“What?” Nathan asked, just in case he had somehow misunderstood Duke’s statement.

“I’m pretty sure it was Audrey’s idea,” Duke added, and suddenly, it was much easier to believe.

“Ah.” Nathan held up the rum again, and this time, Duke seemed to properly register it; his expression flickered, went fond and sad and awful for a moment before he put on a wry smile.

“Yeah, that’s. A good idea.”

“Prob’ly not, but nobody’s watching,” Nathan replied, and Duke pulled back, a flash of a very different sort of surprise showing; Nathan couldn’t count how many youthful hijinks they’d excused with that logic, and he probably shouldn’t have said it, but the McShaws were his friends, too.

If there was ever a time for a temporary truce, he figured now was it.

He gave Duke another pointed nudge, indicating that they should probably move out of the dimly-lit entryway, and Duke turned, heading down the ladder to the kitchen. Nathan followed, and indicated with a gesture and a sharp look that Duke should just- sit down, already, because he looked _better_ but still not entirely focused.

“I’m not cooking this time,” Duke warned, as Nathan went to the cabinet and fished out a pair of glasses.

“Didn’t plan on driving home,” Nathan said, shrugging.

“Fair enough,” Duke said, taking the bottle from Nathan when he’d gotten back to the table, and making quick work of pouring them entirely too much. He lifted his glass, and Nathan mirrored him, waiting. Duke considered, and his smile was all sharp edges when he spoke. “Here’s to old friends, and bad ideas.”

“To old friends,” Nathan repeated, tilting his glass enough to allow it to tap twice against Duke’s. They drank, the rum sweet and bitter and painlessly smooth on Nathan’s tongue, nothing like it had been when he was a teenager, and the difference bothered him far more than it normally would. Nathan didn’t set his glass down until it was empty, and Duke matched him, though he knew Duke _could_ feel the burn of it; practice or bravado or guilt, Nathan couldn’t tell, and _that_ bothered him more than it should, too.

Duke refilled their glasses, and Nathan leaned back in his seat.

“Really bought a restaurant?” he asked, and Duke laughed.

“Mystery box,” Duke said, expression rueful. “No refunds.”

“Huh.”

“Spent a lot of time there, when we were kids. Mrs. McShaw didn’t mind me hanging around. Never figured I’d be running the joint, but...” His voice drifted off, and he laughed again, a short, sharp huff. “Bill said I could use a ‘legitimate business’. ...Said it was as close to keeping it in the family as he could get.”

“Y’know I _meant_ it, said I didn’t think you could’ve had anything to do with what happened?” Nathan asked, the words urgent, a swell of something that wasn’t as simple as guilt or remorse rising hot in his chest. Duke looked caught off guard once more, and there was honesty in the flash of hurt, of _grief_ , that played across his face, something raw and bitter and too real. It passed into something softer, hollow and resigned, and he shook his head.

“Yeah. I get it, was just a damn witness statement, I just- habit, y’know? Get used to things meaning one thing, hard to see it when they mean something else.” Nathan didn’t think he flinched at the reminder, but he wasn’t sure; he should’ve known Duke would take it personal after how things’d played out with the Jonas Lester case. It wouldn’t have been the first time in the last month Nathan had accused Duke of murder. That the situation had been completely different, that it had never even entered Nathan’s mind that Duke could’ve had a hand in what happened to Geoff didn’t change that Duke had every reason to see an accusation coming.

That Nathan hadn’t actually really thought Duke had been responsible for Lester’s death, either, probably wouldn’t help even if he admitted it.

Nathan couldn’t think of anything to say, so he raised his glass again, instead, and drank.

Duke kept his eyes on his hands for a long moment, slowly rotating his glass between his fingers; Nathan wasn’t sure if he was thinking, or trying not to, but the sharp crease between his brows suggested that either way, it wasn’t working for him.

“You remember... that time, we were... fifteen, went out to Kaepler Point?” Nathan asked, and Duke’s eyes fixed back on him, narrowing for a moment. He tilted his head, clearly considering.

“That disaster of a fishing trip?” Duke asked, and Nathan nodded, tracing his fingers along the edge of his glass.

“Right. Was, what, the five of us?”

“Six,” Duke said, his expression relaxing into a smile, fond and amused. “Ian and, uh, Lou? No, no, it was Michael.”

“Right,” Nathan acknowledged. He’d forgotten that Geoff and Bill’s cousin had been in town for that trip- visiting from Chicago, he thought, or maybe Charleston, something with a C and a strong accent. Nathan didn’t think they’d seen him again, after. “You remember, Geoff-”

“-Sulked the _whole damn drive_ ,” Duke interjected, smile stretching, a trace of a laugh in the words. “God, he was so mad, I don’t think I ever saw his dad closer to losing his patience with him.”

“Can you blame him?” Nathan asked, trying out a smile of his own.

“Geoff, or Mr. McShaw?” Duke asked, and Nathan chuckled.

“Fair ‘nough. Wasn’t like it was a secret, Geoff not likin’ the water.”

“It was a _week_. On a boat. Man, he was _miserable_. And he _still_ managed to catch the biggest fish on the trip.”

“Only if you aren’t counting that shark Ian hooked,” Nathan countered, and Duke snorted.

“Doesn’t count if you can’t pull it in,” he said dismissively. “Geoff landed that thing.”

“What was it... Bluefish?” Nathan asked, and Duke shook his head.

“Nah, it was a bass. Used to rub Bill’s nose in it, reminded him all the damn time. Bill always let him think it bothered him, laughed about it after. Tried it with me once, too. Didn’t try it again.”

“Why not?” Nathan asked, and Duke laughed.

“Because he caught the biggest fish on that trip, but it was smaller than the one I pulled in off the dock a couple months before, and we both knew it.” Duke took a drink, shoulders falling into a more relaxed line, and he shook his head. “I ever tell you about the time he convinced himself old man Pearson’s shed was haunted?”

“No,” Nathan said, leaning forward, interested. Duke laughed again, easier and more _present_ than he’d looked before, and launched into the story with a hint of his usual flair. Nathan listened, and drank, and followed with a story of his own, and some of his own tension faded. It wasn’t enough, it didn’t change the boiling frustration that he couldn’t do _more_ about Katarina, that he couldn’t _fix things_ , but it was nice to remember. It was nice to have someone to remember _with_.

***

It was very, very late, the bottle was empty, and the conversation had lapsed into a thoughtful sort of silence. Nathan felt distant, more disconnected than usual- one of the reasons he didn’t usually drink anywhere near as much as he had- and Duke was sprawled long and disorderly across his seat, attention fixed somewhere in the middle distance between them. Nathan was starting to consider the benefits of finding the nearest horizontal surface that wasn’t the floor or the too-short bench and getting at least a few hours of sleep; he’d just about mustered the energy to stand when Duke broke the quiet.

“He shouldn’t have come back.” The statement was quiet, and flat, and Nathan frowned.

“Geoff?”

“He had a real chance, y’know? He was, he was _good_ at what he did, he could’ve been somebody. Could’ve built something. He was never gonna build anything in this town.”

“He had family here. Friends. He was trying to do the right thing,” Nathan said, brow furrowing as he considered the note of surety, of _resignation_ , in Duke’s tone.

“And who did that help?” Duke asked, voice scathing, and all of his loose, easy lassitude seemed to burn away in an instant; he pulled himself upright, glaring. “He got out, he should’ve- he had a _goddamn chance_ , Nate, and this place took it away.”

“Not that simple,” Nathan said, defensive and not sure why. He was having trouble following the suddenness of Duke’s ire, wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it- Duke had been _better_ , since coming home, about keeping his responses measured. About reacting with a sharp smile or a harsh word where his younger self would have been lashing out, and Nathan had come to expect that, to plan around it. This looked more like the kid he’d grown up with, all hair-trigger temper and boiling resentment.

“Isn’t it?” Duke demanded, body taut and eyes sharp and too clear for the amount he’d had to drink. “It’s what happens. It’s what this place _does_. Especially now.”

“So what, people should just _leave_?” Nathan asked, and he was almost surprised by the anger in his own voice, was almost surprised to find that his hands had gone white-knuckled around his empty glass. “We should all just, what, run away? Pretend this isn’t _home_?”

“ _Yes!_ ” Duke snapped, bringing his hand down on the table, making the empty bottle jump. “For fuck’s sake, Nate, why the _hell_ not? What the hell is there about this patch of ground that’s worth all this? You used to ask the same thing! We were all gonna get out, remember? We were all gonna be something, we were all gonna live our lives. When did that change?”

“Some of us _grew up_ ,” Nathan bit out, the words a raspy growl. “Some of us have _responsibilities_.”

“You really sure they’re worth dying for?” The words were soft, an aching, shaky exhalation that left Nathan blinking, left him struggling once more to catch up; as fast as it had come, Duke’s anger seemed to have disappeared. His hand bunched into a loose fist on the table, but it looked more like he was searching for something to hold on to, like he had lost his grip on whatever usually kept him moored. Nathan watched him warily, _searchingly_ , and there was nothing but exhaustion and fear and _grief_ on his angular features.

It’d been a very long day; Nathan forced himself to relax, to find some scrap of steadiness.

“Something has to be,” Nathan said, and he was reasonably proud of how level his voice was. “All go sometime, anyway.”

“...Yeah,” Duke said, and it sounded like surrender, sounded tired and defeated. “Fuck. You didn’t used to get philosophical when you drank.”

“You didn’t used to get _angry_ ,” Nathan pointed out, and Duke’s cheeks colored, his eyes cutting to the side.

“Sorry.”

“Long day,” Nathan excused, and maybe he shouldn’t, but it wasn’t like Duke hadn’t reined himself in, anyway. And Nathan didn’t think this was exactly typical, either. “Should get some rest.”

“...Yeah. Go hit the head, I’ll... get the couch set up.” Duke stood up, rolling out his neck and shoulders in a clearly-practiced movement, and Nathan was suddenly acutely aware of just how much force and temper Duke was always keeping reined in, how much of himself he worked to control. They weren’t any of them the people they’d been when they were younger; he wasn’t entirely sure he shouldn’t be mourning that loss, as well.

...Duke was right, he didn’t used to get philosophical when he drank.

He pushed himself upright, having much more trouble getting his limbs to cooperate than usual, and waited for the Rouge to stop spinning around him. He’d worry about considerations of personal growth and change in the morning. For now... Well, for now, at least he was likely to be able to sleep.

***

The smell of crisping bacon and sharp cheddar and green onions pulled Nathan awake, and from the way everything swayed and shifted, it was earlier than his body wanted to be up. He groaned, making a brief pretense of shielding his eyes with one arm, only to be met with a low chuckle.

“Cut the shit, Nate, we both know you don’t have a headache,” Duke called, and Nathan peeked out from beneath his arm; Duke was leaning in the doorway that led between the bedroom and the kitchen, a too-loose pair of jeans riding low on his hips, barefoot and shirtless and with his hair still standing out in a dandelion-fluff halo of utterly ridiculous bedhead. “Breakfast in ten, and then you need to call Audrey before she starts calling _me_.”

“What?” Nathan asked, because he might not have a headache, but that didn’t mean he was actually thinking all that clearly.

“She’s called you twice, man, and texted you three times. Not an emergency, apparently, but your absence has been noted.”

“You read my texts?” Nathan groused, too disoriented to immediately wonder why Parker might think to call Duke if she couldn’t reach him. He pushed himself into a sitting position, regretting it immediately and propping his head in his hands, blinking against the dizziness.

“You’re welcome,” Duke replied, and Nathan could hear the eye-roll in his voice. “Y’know, you two, you are a matched pair, seriously, would it kill you to recognize a favor once in awhile? You were out, your phone went off, I checked it to make sure there wasn’t a ten foot tall man eating balloon animal wandering Main Street, there isn’t, you have time to eat breakfast and have a goddamn cup of coffee before you leave.”

The image that conjured was duly terrifying, and Nathan gave another beleaguered groan, but the smell from the kitchen and the promise of coffee were very quickly going a long way toward making movement slightly less terrible to contemplate. How Duke could be as _chipper_ as he was, when he had to actually be _feeling_ last night’s overindulgence, was something Nathan did not want to consider.

“Mind if I use the shower?” Nathan asked, after a moment.

“Clean towel’s on the counter, turn the dial halfway for warm but not dangerous,” Duke called back, and Nathan pushed himself onto his feet and shuffled to the tiny bathroom, too grateful to resent how damn easy this was. The shower helped, and he felt slightly less like he was watching the world from a place somewhere not quite inside his skin as he pulled on his clothes from the day before. Duke didn’t look up from plating the eggs when Nathan moved past him, just indicated the table with a shrugged shoulder.

“Sit, the coffee’s still hot but it’ll be fine in a minute, and seriously, call your partner,” he said, as Nathan’s phone buzzed a few inches across the surface of the table.

“Thought you weren’t going to cook this time,” Nathan said, dropping onto the bench and checking his texts; as Duke had reported, nothing appeared to be wrong, but Parker was definitely wondering where he was.

“That was last night,” Duke said, depositing a plate of perfectly done bacon and fluffy, golden eggs in front of him. “This is this morning. And again, with the ingratitude.”

“Thanks,” Nathan said absently, most of his attention on his phone; he typed out a quick message to Parker letting her know he’d be in in an hour, and missed the startled hesitation before Duke went and collected his own plate and mug. Setting his phone aside, he turned his attention to the food, fairly sure he was probably more than a little hungry. It tasted as good as it looked, savory but not too heavy, and Nathan had the passing thought that Duke might actually do tolerably well for himself with a restaurant.

The reminder jolted him out of the lingering post-drinking haze, some of the appeal of the food slipping away as loss and frustration and an uneasy recollection of Duke’s angry words poured back in. He looked up, watching Duke push a bit of tomato around the edge of his plate, and it was hard to reconcile the hopeless, sharp anger of the previous night with the slightly-perplexed frown he was wearing now.

“What?” Nathan asked, and Duke looked up, blinking. “Frownin’ at your food,” he clarified, when Duke didn’t say anything, and Duke shrugged.

“Just thinking,” he said, and Nathan gave him a flat look, because that much had been obvious. “Look, before- before everything started, with- with Geoff and Bill, and. Everything.” Duke paused, and shifted back in his seat, looking decidedly uncomfortable. “Audrey, she came by.”

“...And?” Nathan asked, sitting up straighter.

“And I blew her off. I wasn’t- I was, she caught me at a bad moment, and I just- she asked me about Lucy, and I froze, and I blew her off.”

“...And this is bothering you _now_?” Nathan asked, frowning.

“...She, uh. After, when you left. She told me... She told me that she was going to find out what happened to Geoff. And she did.” Duke shrugged again, didn’t meet Nathan’s eyes. “She followed through. And she helped Bill, she-” Duke shook his head, and flashed a sharp smile that Nathan couldn’t quite puzzle out the nuances of. “I owe her.”

“So what are you going to do about it?” Nathan asked, and Duke’s smile dropped away, his expression fading into something fragile and uncertain.

“I don’t know. I need- time. This stuff...”

“Longer you wait, harder it’s gonna be,” Nathan pointed out, and Duke exhaled sharply, pushed his hand through his disordered curls.

“I know. I don’t know. Lucy was-” He cut himself off, and his smile, when he looked back up at Nathan, was bitter and raw. “When Lucy said she was going to do something, she did it. I didn’t have a lot of people like that.”

“But you had Lucy?” Nathan asked, the words careful, because Duke didn’t _share_ , didn’t open up about the way things’d been when they were kids, not the things Nathan hadn’t been there to see.

“Just... For a couple weeks. After my dad-” he paused, and dragged in a shaky breath. “After my dad died, she was around some. More than my mom was. And then she wasn’t. That picture... That was the day before she- I think it might’ve been the last time I saw her. And I _don’t remember_.”

“Anything-” Nathan started, voice rough, and he shook his head, started over. “Been... remembering. Bits ‘n pieces, since- still don’t remember _her_ , but I remember bein’ at the school. Remember that- your dad, and mine, they argued. Little things. You remember _anything_ from that day?”

“Nothing,” Duke said, the word bitter. “It’s not like- it’s not _hard_ to remember, it’s just _not there_. Some of it- a _lot_ of it, the stuff from when we were kids- it’s fuzzy, or it’s bits and pieces, like- like what you said. But this is different.”

“Still,” Nathan said, leaning forward. “More’n she has.”

“I _know_ ,” Duke said. “I just- I need time.” He looked at Nathan, earnest and- _asking_ , looking for some kind of understanding, and Nathan couldn’t ignore the twist of familiarity it brought. He wasn’t entirely sure what moral authority Duke thought he had over this particular issue that he could arbitrate it, that somehow it’d be _okay_ if Nathan understood where he was coming from, but Nathan yielded, leaned back in his seat.

“Just don’t take too long. Only make things worse, for _both_ of you, you do.”

“Yeah,” Duke said, pushing his hand through his hair again, and he forced a smile. “I’ll try to- I’ll try. Whatever, finish your breakfast, aren’t you supposed to be working?”

“Spent enough nights at the office, Chief can live with me being late once,” Nathan replied, though he did turn his attention back to his food, letting Duke change the subject.

“Guess it’s bound to happen once in awhile, you keep coming around in the middle of the night. You know you _can_ actually just come by, right? Doesn’t have to be some kind of cloak-and-dagger thing,” Duke said, and Nathan glanced up at him, brow furrowed. “Just saying. Door doesn’t magically appear after midnight, it’s still there any time you want to use it.”

“...Duke,” Nathan said, not sure how to head that off, not sure how to back away without breaking the current peace. Not sure how to make himself _want_ to, when he knew he should, knew he _needed_ to. They weren’t friends, not anymore, no matter how easy this was, no matter how much it felt like the way everything used to be.

“...Right,” Duke said, expression shifting, smile going plastic and dismissive. “Still off the table. I get it.” His tone was light, easy and careless, and Nathan hated hearing it. Hated that he knew it was a lie. “Late night, cloak-and-dagger it is.”

He stood up, moving his dishes to the counter, busying himself cleaning up, and Nathan lost any desire to keep eating, no matter how good the food was. He pushed himself to his feet, and pocketed his phone, and Duke went tense.

“Wasn’t throwing you out,” he said.

“Should go. Like you said, supposed to be working.”

“Fine. Whatever.” Duke kept his attention on the sink, hands curled into fists and pressed hard against the edge of the counter, and it was- it was too much, too reminiscent of the moment of hopeless, helpless _defeat_ he’d seen last night. Like Duke was trying to hold on to something that had already slipped through his hands, and however accurate it might, _should_ , be, Nathan couldn’t just leave it at that.

He took a cautious step forward, and reached out, resting a hand on Duke’s shoulder for just a moment.

“Just... need some time,” he said, and he wasn’t sure it was true, wasn’t sure all the time in the world would fix what had gone wrong between them, but for the first time in a long time, Nathan wasn’t entirely willing to dismiss the possibility, either.

Duke scoffed, but Nathan could see some of the tension fade out of him, could see his shoulders relax as he shifted just slightly toward Nathan’s touch.

“Pot, kettle,” he said, glancing over his shoulder, but there was just a trace of amusement in his wry expression. “How long is too long?”

“Let you know when I figure it out,” Nathan said, shrugging, and Duke huffed a laugh.

“You’re supposed to be working,” he said, gesturing at the ladder. “Go, keep Audrey out of trouble.”

“ _Not_ my job,” Nathan said, because he was fairly sure that might actually be impossible, but he stepped away, and it was easier, didn’t feel like if he left now, it’d be final.

He wasn’t entirely sure that was a good thing, but for the moment, he’d take it.


End file.
